Red vs Blue: A Tale of Two Mercenaries
by Doinstuffman
Summary: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE CHORUS TRILOGY INSIDE! I've wondered for a while just exactly how Felix and Locus signed on with their respective armies, so I thought I'd take matters into my own hands. One of those "audience knows the rules and enjoys watching the characters figure it out themselves" kind of story.
1. Chapter 1

**[A/N: Seeing as I hit another patch of writer's block with my ongoing Destiny and Star Wars/Star Trek stories, and that I've been gorging myself on RvB (again), this idea got me through a slow weekend at work. And in case you're reading this, but failed to read the description, I'll say it again: MAJOR RvB SPOILERS FOR SEASONS 11-13 FOLLOW!  
Enjoy!-Doinstuff]**

 **Red vs. Blue**

 **A Tale of Two Mercenaries**

 **Dramatis Personae**

The Mercs

Isaac Gates (codename: Felix), Mercenary

Samuel Ortez (codename: Locus), Mercenary

The Federal Army of Chorus

Brigadier General Richard McClellin, Head of F.A.C. Special Operations Division

Donald Doyle, Personal Secretary to the Brigadier

The New Republic

General Kevin Thompson, leader of The New Republic

Private Vanessa Kimball, Scout

 _Several years prior to the events of "Red vs. Blue: The Chorus Trilogy" …_

1: Base-Watch

 _New Republic Outpost "Sierra-9," approximately 113km Southwest of Armonia_

Removing his finger from his rifle's trigger, Felix continued to track the slow-moving Warthog across the bridge leading towards the New Republic base. He had been scouting this area for weeks, waiting for the General to show his face. It looked like today was finally his lucky day. Laying on his stomach underneath a rock arch outside the base's perimeter, he was hardly in a perfect hiding spot.

But then again, that was the idea. After so much time spent observing from afar and running covert recon inside the base itself, the board was set. Control's elaborate game was about to begin, and he was the first piece to be put into play.

Felix's helmet radio beeped in his ear. Raising his hand up to the side of his helmet, he answered the hail.

"Felix. What is your status?" The mixed male/female voice filter used by Control filled the radio channel.

"Control. Your ears must have been burning," he smirked behind his visor. While he knew exactly who Control was, he had been given instructions to never speak their name on the radio, and all verbal communication from Control was filtered and distorted. With his right hand still gripping his rifle, he continued to track the Warthog through the rifle scope as it arrived at its destination, near the center of the complex. The base itself, like most of the facilities used by the rebels, was more akin to a camp. There was no outer wall, and most of the buildings were prefabricated and flimsy. While the zoom offered by the scope on the standard UNSC DMR was nowhere close to that of a proper sniper rifle, he could make out the distinctive armor of General Thompson as he climbed out of the jeep, greeting two armored soldiers waiting for him.

"My time is valuable, Felix. Please do not waste it." Control's chastising remark snapped him back onto the task at hand.

"Right." _I'd hate to get billed for it,_ he thought to himself. "Just got a positive ID on the General. Waiting for the next patrol to circle around."

"Excellent. You may proceed at your convenience." The voice filter masked any kind of emotional inflections his employer may have had, causing Felix to wonder if Control was patronizing him.

"I'm assuming you're calling me because _he_ hasn't made contact yet?"

"Felix, you know as well as I that _he_ can only carry out his phase of the operation after _you_ complete the task at hand."

"Of course, how could I be so-"

"Hey, you there! Freeze!" A female voice shouted behind him, causing Felix to almost instinctively reach for the knife at the small of his back, a reflex he quickly suppressed.

"I'm gonna have to call you back." He whispered as he killed the audio link.

"Put down your weapon and stand up! And do it _slowly!_ " A second voice added, a male this time. Getting ready to speak in his most charismatic voice, he complied. Laying his rifle on the ground, he rose from his prone position at a lethargic pace.

"Easy, fella. No funny business, now." The male voice said. Felix rolled his eyes behind his helmet, chuckling to himself at the man's heavy drawl that made him sound like an armored hillbilly.

"Yes, sir." He said as he turned, raising his hands above his head. He was now face-to-face with the rebel soldiers, the woman noticeably taller than her male counterpart. Both were wearing the signature tan armor of the New Republic. Another signature mark of the armor was the fact that it was a mish-mash of various UNSC armor components. Both warring factions on Chorus relied mainly on technology and weapons left behind when the UNSC pulled out of the sector. The major difference was the fact that the Federal Army was much better off in terms of resources. They controlled most of the major cities on the planet, and to that effect, most of the foundries. Therefore, the F.A.C. could maintain a standard uniform for all soldiers. The New Republic was much less fortunate, and their equipment was barely able to maintain any kind of uniformity, aside from its color.

The woman kept her rifle trained on Felix, but motioned with a hand for her partner to approach and finish disarming him. In addition to his rifle, Felix also carried a pistol and his trusty combat knife, as well as a selection of smaller throwing knives.

"What the hell are you doing here?" The woman demanded as the man got closer to Felix, removing the pistol from the magnetic holster on his hip. Felix kept his hands raised, complying with the search for weapons.

"Would you believe me if I said I was just birdwatching?" He cocked his head inquisitively.

"Birdwatching? With armor and a marksman's rifle? What the hell kind a' birds you looking for, fella?" The man asked as he walked around Felix.

"Oh. My. God. Ellis… He's lying." The woman rolled her head to mimic what her eyes were doing.

"Well shit, Vanessa, you never know. They's some big-ass birds on this planet! I'd bring a gun too if'n I was lookin' for-"

"ELLIS! Just shut the fuck up and get his knife!" She screamed, causing the two men to look towards each other, equally surprised. Ellis' visor started to tilt downward, eyeing the large knife Felix still carried. Felix nodded his head upward to get the other man's attention.

"Yeah, uh… you don't wanna try and take that from me, Ellis." He said sternly.

The dim-witted soldier chuckled nervously. "Sorry, uhh… I kinda have to." He said, reaching for the handle. Within an instant, Felix's right hand was locked onto Ellis' wrist, and he twisted it back on itself. The sound of bones crunching echoed, and Ellis shrieked in pain. Felix swung the man around, and once he was behind Ellis, he retrieved his pistol from Ellis' left hand and aimed it at the woman. Holding Ellis' right hand behind his back, he kept the younger man between himself and Vanessa. Ellis whimpered periodically, trying to wrestle himself free, but only hurting himself more.

Even though their faces were obscured by helmets, Felix could read her face just as well as he knew she could read his. He could tell by the position of her head that she wasn't sighting down the scope of her weapon. She was too afraid of hitting her friend to line up a shot. He smirked again, and loosened his grip on Ellis' wrist. Planting his foot on the other man's back, he kicked off, knocking Ellis to the ground in front of his friend. As soon as he was clear, Ellis clutched his wrist and moaned in pain on the ground. Vanessa still had her rifle pointed at Felix, but he holstered his sidearm, and held up his hands again.

"Look. Vanessa, is it?" He asked. "You got a last name?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Kimball. Vanessa Kimball." Felix took a step forward, but a tightening of her grip on the rifle stopped him from advancing any further.

"Well, Vanessa Kimball, my name is… well, my name isn't all that important. But you can call me Felix. And I'm not here to fight, I'm here to see your boss." He motioned with his head towards the base.

"Why?"

"Let's just call it a 'mutually beneficial business proposition.'"

"Why should I trust you?" She snapped back.

He laughed. "I'm gonna be honest, for all the reasons there are to trust me, there are almost as many reasons _not_ to." Felix lowered his hands again. He reached for one of the pouches on his chestplate, producing a data chip despite Kimball's warnings to keep his hands in view.

"But this contains a list of stolen Federal Army supplies that I just happen to have on hand. Supplies that a resistance movement still in its relative infancy could potentially make use of." He held out the chip in his hand, offering it to her. "Weapons, armor, food and medical supplies. All in a safe location, in working order, and ready to be picked up."

Kimball lowered her gun, stepping around a whimpering Ellis to reach out for the chip. But as her hand got closer, Felix withdrew his hand just enough to keep her from taking it.

"All I'm asking for is ten minutes of the General's time." He stashed the chip again. "For now, at least."

Ellis was now rising to his feet. "You're not seriously gonna listen to this asshole, are ya? I mean, you saw what he did to me!"

Felix shook his head. "Relax, farmboy. It isn't broken." A few test rotations of his wrist, and a few flexes later, Ellis gave an ambiguous grunt.

"If he doesn't like what he hears, I'll put as much distance between us as I can, and you and your friends can go back to starving in the mountains."

Kimball hesitated for a moment, and then placed her weapon on the magnetic lock on her back. "I'm assuming those provisions aren't a gift."

"I'm sure something can be worked out." Another moment's hesitation from the young woman.

"Just think of how much more effective your cause would be if you and your forces had some real teeth to fight with." Felix opened his arms pragmatically. Kimball turned away from him to radio back to base. Felix leaned back against the rock behind him. As part of the setup, he had raided an F.A.C. supply depot, and had made off with quite a bit of weapons, armor, explosives and medical supplies. And during his covert visits to the New Republic base, he had confirmed Control's assumption that the rebels didn't exactly have vaults overflowing with credits. Several arms dealers had also visited the base in that time, and Felix had noticed they were compensated in old Covenant weaponry leftover from the Great War. Which was exactly what he had been hoping for.

And since his last trip away from the base, he had made sure those dealers would not be coming back anytime soon.

The sound of approaching Warthogs drew his attention to a point behind Kimball and Ellis. Soon, two jeeps pulled up to the ridge and stopped, occupied only by drivers. Felix couldn't help but be relieved the gunner positions were vacant.

"So? I'm gonna assume that's a good sign?" He said, taking a step toward the lead vehicle.

"The General is willing to see you, but he insisted you ride in with us rather than walk." Kimball responded as she traded places with the driver of the jeep closest to Felix. The driver moved to the turret, leaving the passenger seat open for him. Ellis got into the passenger seat of the second Warthog.

 _Because_ _ **that**_ _makes about as much sense as tits on a jellyfish, but whatever,_ he thought to himself, figuring it was to draw as much attention as possible to his arrival.

 _He wants his people to know that I'm in the base, in case I turn out hostile. Well, all in good time._ He eased into the seat, and Kimball opened the throttle and put the jeep in gear.

 _All in good time…_


	2. Chapter 2

**[A/N: Finally found the time to finish this admittedly massive chapter. Hope you enjoy!-Doinstuff]**

2: War-To-War Salesman

Felix eyed the two mounted turrets in crude pillboxes on either side of the road as the Warthog passed into the perimeter of the base. Once they had crossed the bridge, Kimball slowed the jeep to a safer speed. Soldiers began coming out of the buildings around the cars, trying to catch a glimpse of their new guest.

"Word travels fast around here," he said. Kimball said nothing in return, leaving Felix staring awkwardly at her for a few moments. He chuckled lightheartedly, hoping it would crack her tough exterior. It did him no good, even though he still couldn't see her face behind the silver visor, he knew she must have had a very displeased look on her face.

The jeeps pulled up to the building he had previously identified as the command center, and he jolted forward as Kimball slammed the brakes harder than necessary. She waved over two armed guards as Felix got out, and they relieved him of his rifle and sidearm once again. And after the sound of Kimball pulling back the charging handle of her rifle came from behind him, his defiance to surrender his knives quickly faded. After turning over his final throwing knife, Kimball walked out in front of him, and motioned for him to follow her up the short staircase and into the command structure.

Inside, the building was just a shoddy and unkempt as the outpost itself. It barely had any power, and the walls were beginning to accumulate a green mold.

"How do you people live like this?" Felix asked as he was led to the planning room.

"Don't judge us just because of this. Not all of our bases are this bad." Kimball said without looking back at him. The room's door failed to open on the first press of the button on the wall, but a swift punch by Kimball coaxed the switch to comply.

"Are they worse?" Felix inquired, a thick layer of mockery coating his words. Kimball whipped around and held up a finger as if to chastise him, but she simply sighed and her shoulders drooped.

"I will admit, I can't remember the last time I had a hot shower, or a meal that didn't come out of a foil packet." She regained what little poise the armor allowed for, and then led him through the door. Felix scanned the room, watching as the Republic troops and support staff ceased their tasks and stared at him. In the center of it all was a tall man, his chestnut hair beginning to gray, a trait also reflected in his short goatee. A scar ran diagonally across his left eye. Though there were some wrinkles in his face, his demeanor made him appear young and relaxed, but also stern and professional all at once. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he only looked up from the holoboard projecting data long enough to acknowledge the presence of his new guest, before resuming a discussion of tactics with a senior officer.

"I want Ayala and Veers to take an EOD squad and sweep the plains again. Our supply lines are in shambles as it is, we don't need McLellin and his lackeys setting up minefields along them," Thompson said, in the midst of troop assignments.

Kimball motioned for Felix to approach the man. "General Thompson, this is-"

The older man held up a finger. "One moment, _Private_ Kimball," he snapped without looking, emphasizing her rank to assert his authority over her.

Vanessa swore to herself. She knew better than to interrupt the General, especially when he was in the war room. She had hoped the extenuating circumstances would have given her some reprieve, but no such luck.

"And send Gold Team up to Station Twelve. I want their eyes on the mountain pass in case the Feds try any of that shit they pulled on us at Delta-7 last month." The General said to the officer at his side. He parted both his hands over the holographic map, zooming in on a section of the mountain near the projection of the base they were currently occupying. Felix cocked his head to study the map. He had intended to use the mountain pass in question as one of his emergency evac routes if things went south with his New Republic sales pitch.

 _Even if failure isn't an option, it's always best to prepare for it._ The addition of what was presumably a sniper team complicated that particular route, but he had several more ways out, with varying degrees of difficulty.

"Alright, that's it for now, Lieutenant. Get that shit done, or so help me, if we all get killed, I will haunt you." The General said with a warm smile and a pat of the young man's shoulder. The Lieutenant threw up a lazy salute, returned with an equally lackadaisical tip of the brow.

"Now then, let's see what we have here."

Thompson now moved to face Kimball and Felix, and his eyes narrowed for a moment as he looked Felix up and down, examining his armor. Felix was doing a similar visual inspection of the General's hardsuit. Much like his subordinates, General Thompson's armor was a veritable mix-and-match of components, all seemingly painted the same color, a drab tan. What made his armor stand apart, was the streaks of blue across the plating, and a helmet with a blue visor echoed that pattern. The "standard" New Republic helmets- such as they were-, were all equipped with a silver visor, and Felix wondered if Thompson knew how big of a target he was making himself by standing out from his juniors. Then his eyes turned to Kimball, and his brow furrowed.

"Vanessa, I believe you know the rules." He tapped the side of his head.

"Right. Sorry, sir." Vanessa reached up and popped the seals on her helmet, and removed it. Felix watched her as she did so, and was taken aback at how attractive he found her. But, since it was never a good idea to get involved with potential victims, a visual inspection was as far as he was willing to go. Thompson turned his gaze to Felix.

"You too, son. I like my people to feel comfortable in my presence. Direct eye contact is a means to that end. If my men can see my face, they know that when I give them shit, that it's only because I care. And it helps to keep us all familiar with each other."

"It also makes people easy to read. To guess their intentions, right?" Felix asked.

"Well, shit. I guess you're _not_ stupid. Regardless, the only way I'll even listen to what you have to say, is if you take that bucket off, and show me them eyeballs." The General leaned against a console behind him. "Your call, Mr. Loman."

This hadn't been a part of his plan, but he had no choice. After a moment's hesitation, Felix pressed up against the two thumb seals on his own helmet, and raised it up and off. "The name's Felix though." He stated, his brown eyes meeting the General's blues. "And I'd appreciate it if we dispensed with the classic literature references."

"Fair enough, kid. What say we cut out the bullshit altogether? Our young Ms. Kimball here tells me you have something I want?"

 _Jesus, this guy and his clichés. Well, no harm in playing along,_ Felix thought, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.

"No, I have something you need. May I?" He pointed to the pouch on his chestplate.

"By all means." The General warmly replied, clearly not worried about concealed weapons. Felix, not planning any tricks at the moment, produced the data chip he had shown Kimball earlier, and held it up so the General could see. Thompson passed him a datapad, and Felix loaded the chip into it.

"And that's just the tip of the proverbial iceberg." Felix added, trying to evoke some response from the resistance leader. Thompson simply ignored the remark, skimming through the data. Stockpiles of weapons, several assorted light vehicles, and a figurative mountain of ammunition, but the thing that caught the General's eye the most was the food. Not the dehydrated, foil-sealed swill he and his men had been forced to live off of for weeks, but real, fresh produce and meats. His troops were weary and hungry, and if this merc was really able to procure these curios on a regular basis, it might just be the edge that he needed to push back against the Federal Army.

"Where exactly did all of this come from? And how do I know you're not taking me for a ride?" The General asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked Felix's way.

"Well, the food and guns come courtesy of your friends in the Federal Army. I've been raiding their supply depots for a few weeks, now. Building my inventory, so to speak. Most of that I actually acquired all at once, if you'll believe it." Felix paced around the circular holotable that Thompson had been poring over earlier, never breaking eye contact with the older man.

"Uh-huh… and the vehicles? You really expect me to believe that one man stole six Warthogs and a Mongoose in one raid?" General Thompson placed the datapad on the table and folded his arms, grilling Felix as he moved.

"Of course not. The jeeps and ATV were my getaway vehicles, also stolen from the Feds. I figured it wouldn't hurt to sweeten the deal."

"Right. Now let me ask you something else: What do you expect to get out of all this? Private Kimball said you didn't exactly make it sound like you were our Secret Santa." Thompson leaned forward and placed both his hands on the table as he spoke.

"She's a smart young woman." Felix retorted.

"Indeed. But that still doesn't answer my question, son. What do I need to give you to get these supplies?"

"Cash is king, right?" Felix smirked.

"Well, then you're lookin' at a kingdom with an empty throne."

"Shame," Felix said, faking resignation. "Well then, thank you for your time." He tucked his helmet under his arm, and began to head towards the door.

"Wait. Is there any chance of bartering with you?" Thompson asked, trying to hide the desperation in his voice. Felix stopped at the door, and a sly grin crossed his face.

 _Gotcha._ He spun back around, and leaned against the rusty doorframe.

"As it just so happens, I've heard rumors that Chorus is home to all sorts of old alien relics leftover from the Great War. That was the whole reason I came to this planet in the first place."

"A treasure hunter at heart, eh?" Thompson chuckled. "Well, you heard right. Damn split-lips left a shitload of weaponry and tech behind."

Kimball moved to stand side-by-side with the General. "Yeah, but none of it works. The Covenant did something to them that rendered them all broken or inoperable. The same goes for all those structures all over the planet. Before the civil war, they were all tourist traps."

Felix stood back up to his full height. "Well, that doesn't matter to collectors. As long as it's weird and shiny, they'll pay good money for those relics."

"As much as we need your supplies, trading those antiques to you isn't a fair deal for us, given the value." Thompson argued, but Felix saw right through his lie.

 _You were more than happy to trade with the other arms dealers in the past, but since you know I can fight, you want more, don't you? Everyone has their price, I suppose._

Felix took two steps toward the rebels. "I think I see where this is going, so why don't we cut to the chase? Not only will I continue to bring in supplies for you on a regular basis, I'll also sign on with your army as a freelancer. I just so happen to have a military background, and I've commanded men in the field before. And judging by what I've seen of your people so far, they need all the help they can get. No offense." He eyed Kimball at that last part. She said nothing in return.

"I take it that means you _don't_ want to start as Private and work your way up?" Thompson joked.

"Trust me, sir. I will be much more effective at giving orders, rather than taking them. Except from you, of course." Felix stroked the General's ego with his last remark. He waited patiently as the older man pondered the offer.

"And if I decline, what's to stop you from taking this offer to the Federal Army?"

Felix laughed aloud. "You really think they would react well to some guy strolling into their HQ and offering to sell them back their own supplies? Besides, if we're being serious here, I have to say that I respect the absolute hell out of your cause. I don't fully agree with it, but your men seem to have more integrity than those animals hunkered down in Armonia. If there was ever a side to take in this war, this is it."

Ellis, who had kept his distance from Felix and the others, spoke up from his chair near a computer terminal. "Hell, no argument there. Them Fed bastards woulda shot you dead if they'da found you creepin' around outside one of their bases."

"Which brings up a big concern of mine," Kimball said, hands on her hips.

"Which is?" Felix inquired.

"For someone who claims that he infiltrated multiple enemy bases, we caught you pretty easily." She stared daggers at him.

Felix smiled. "The only reason you found me, is because I _wanted_ you too. I've been scouting out this location for weeks, completely undetected. I needed to know how you guys operated before I brought this offer to the table."

Kimball's glare narrowed even further. "I think you're full of shit."

The General sighed. "As much as I hate dragging out these negotiations, I'm afraid she's got a point. Can you prove you were here for as long as you say?"

Felix opened a hardcase on his thigh. "Well, I suppose you've got me there." He produced a green rubber ball from the case, and showed it to Kimball.

"Unless of course, this is _your_ New Mombasa Bossanova Bosses Limited Edition, 15th Season Commemorative Stress-Relief Grifball replica?" He stated with false inquisitiveness.

"Th—That went missing from my quarters two weeks ago, I thought Ellis took it."

"Yeah, and she beat the shit out of me over that! I told ya I didn't take it!" Ellis chided. Felix tossed the ball underhanded back to its owner.

"I swiped that on my second day here." He looked back at Thompson. "Need I say more, or do we have a deal?"

The General mulled over his options for a few more seconds, and then extended his hand.

"Felix, welcome to the New Republic." The mercenary offered his own, and one firm handshake later, terms were being drawn up.

"Now then, you said these supplies are hidden?"

"Yes sir, and if you have some Pelicans to spare, I can take some men out to my secure location to bring it all back. I'll need a few who can drive Warthogs, as well."

"Right. Kimball, you and Ellis prep a squad and go with him." Kimball saluted, and led Felix to the landing pad. Within minutes, several Republic troops were assembled on the pad, waiting for the two Pelicans to fuel up. Felix muted his external speaker, and switched his radio frequency to the secure channel used by Control.

"Control, it's Felix. I'm in. Phase One is complete."

"Wonderful news, Felix. We shall proceed with Phase Two." The filtered voice replied.

"Roger that, Control. I'll radio in the next time I'm alone."

A third voice entered the conversation. "Control, this is Locus. Have received confirmation of Phase One. Commencing Phase Two." As Locus finished speaking, Felix heard the ambient noise around his partner: the warbling sighs of a man about to faint, and the crack of gloved fist against bone. Felix chuckled to himself.

 _I guess he decided on the 'direct approach.'_


	3. Chapter 3

3: On-Sight Interview

 _F.A.C. Command Center in Armonia, Capital City of Chorus_

Another chill ran down Donald Doyle's spine as he sat at his desk, reviewing the General's deployment orders before they were sent out to the field commanders. Ever since he had gotten back from lunch, he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched. But other than the two guards standing at attention to his right by the General's office door, there was nobody else in the room. And seeing as he had been in their presence since this morning, it couldn't have been either of them, though he certainly felt their slight resentment towards him.

Although Doyle was in the army just the same as them, he had taken the first opportunity he saw to gain a desk job, as Brigadier General McLellin's personal secretary. Unlike many of the young men and women drafted alongside him into the Federal Army of Chorus once the civil war broke out, he did not come from a family rich in military prowess. He was what some might refer to as a "coward," but he resented such a term.

Doyle tried to shake off the uneasy feeling he had, and continued working as best he could. But distractions were high. On top of his phantom chills, several supply depots surrounding the capital city had been raided over the past few weeks, and the traitorous New Republic was believed to be behind the attacks. Doyle had heard horror stories about what the rebel army was willing to do to dominate the planet, and he was growing increasingly nervous, fearing they might get so bold as to attack Armonia itself. And to make matters worse, the missing inventory made his job that much harder. He had been putting off gathering proper numbers on the stolen supplies for a few days, and he doubted the General wouldn't allow that to slide much longer.

"Um, I say, Corporal?" Doyle turned to the guards, who were fully armored, save for their uncovered heads.

"Yes, Doyle? What do you need?" the guard responded.

"Sorry to bother you, but I have to ask: do you get the feeling that something is... Off? Today, I mean."

The other guard shrugged. "I mean, your desk lamp is off." The first guard reached out and slapped his friend across the face.

"He means that something isn't right in here, dumbass! I swear to God, you drive me crazy with that sarcastic bullshit!" The second guard rubbed his cheek, grumbling about how mean his partner was.

Doyle kept trying to get their attention, but their bickering drowned him out. And then the sound of boots against the metal floor coming through the open door at the other end of the room drew his attention forward, but he saw no one standing where there should have been a person. At least, not one he could see. Even from several meters away, Doyle could see the air was distorted in the shape of a man, almost like he was made of glass.

"Um... Corporal? Private? I think you may want to take a look at thiiiiis," Doyle pleaded as the two guards still ignored him. That is, until a crackling sound drew the undivided attention of all three men to massive, armored solider now poised where the glass phantom once stood. Standing at almost two meters tall, he would have been intimidating enough without his hardsuit. His armor was steel-grey, with a deep green pattern adorning it. His helmet had no visor, and the green "X" pattern on its face moved as the man turned to look at everyone. A shotgun was attached to the magnetic holster on his back. Before the behemoth of a man could say anything, Doyle let out a weak warbling sigh as he fainted, his head hitting the desk as he fell forward, slumped over his keyboard. The two guards looked at the intruder, looked at each other, then back at the intruder. And then they charged forward.

Locus dropped the first guard with one punch, a swift and precise strike to the jaw. The man crumpled to the ground in a heap, almost causing the second man to trip over him as he charged. Locus sidestepped the off-balance trooper, shifting his weight to push the man into the wall behind him. The guard went shoulder-first into the wall, denting the metal bulkhead with his armor's shoulder plating.

Regaining his footing, the trooper took up a hand-to-hand stance, his sidearm having fallen on the other side of the room. Locus said nothing, and barely moved, only turning to face the panicking guard, but leaving his hands at his side. Behind the helmet, Locus stared down his opponent, waiting for him to make the first move. It didn't take long for the smaller man to oblige him, running forward with his fist cocked back. As the trooper threw the punch, Locus brought his left hand up, deflecting the man's blow with his forearm, opening his opponent's defense. Not one to waste an opportunity, Locus leveled him with a devastating blow to the temple.

Leaving the two guards on the floor, Locus approached the desk where the unconscious third man lay.

"Doyle," the intercom on the desk fizzled to life, the General's voice coming from the other end. "What the hell is going on out there, lad?" Grabbing the pencil-pusher and lifting him into the air, Locus shook him awake.

"Oh! Oh, dear! P-please, don't hurt me!" The sniveling secretary pleaded, shaking in Locus' grip.

"I need to speak to the General. Open the door," Locus firmly stated, lowering the cowardly man back into his chair. "Now."

Doyle flopped down in his seat, uncontrollable tremors dominating his right hand as he keyed the intercom.

"G-G-General, ah… there is someone here to see y-you," Doyle whimpered, his mouth dry. "B-but I don't think he has an appointment," he added, hoping that wouldn't escalate the situation.

The powered doors slid open with an audible _hiss_ , and Locus stayed silent as he turned his armored head away from the cowering man at the desk. He kept his hands at his side, but made sure to keep them far enough away from his sidearm as not to have the General fire on him.

General Richard McLellin had his own pistol drawn and sighted on the intruder to his office. The military leader of Chorus remained in full battle armor, helmet and all.

Locus remained undaunted as he took two steps into the room. The aging warrior cocked the hammer of his pistol with his thumb, and Locus took that as a sign to stop in his tracks.

"That's close enough, lad," the General said. "Don't make me hurt you."

"Of course," Locus said as he kept his hands visible.

"Quite a mess you made out there," McLellin's words were laced with venom.

Locus turned to look behind him at the two unconscious guards, as well as the secretary who had once again fainted. "Your men will live."

"Be that as it may, you think you can just barge in here, make a right bloody mess of my HQ, and expect me to let you walk out of here under your own power?"

"That is exactly what I intend to do," Locus was unfazed by the General's threat. His entire adult life had been spent looking down the muzzles of guns all across the galaxy. From the Covenant in the Great War, to criminal scum like Rueben Lozano, Locus had encountered- and killed- a wider variety of adversaries than most normal men would see in their entire lives.

"Boyo... I'm fairly convinced you're either the Devil himself, or just plain crazy." General McLellin began to reach for a button on his desk. "But you've got about ten seconds to give me one good reason not to get my best men in here to take you apart and send you back to your maker in a shoebox."

"I am fairly certain it won't come to that, General McLellin. Because I am the solution to your pest problem." Locus took a few steps to his left, McLellin's pistol tracking him as he walked. He could almost feel the hesitation in the older man, and while he did not possess his partner's way with people, Locus was able to read the General well enough to know the situation in Armonia was desperate.

And he knew exactly how to handle desperation.

The General set his pistol into the old-fashioned leather holster on his thigh, and reached back up to release the seals on his helmet. Lifting the armored cowl from his head, McLellin set it down on his desk, circling around to the front of it to lean against.

"Unless that shotgun of yours fires rat poison, I'm gonna go ahead and assume you're referrin' to a much larger type of vermin." McLellin's face creased as he stared down his opposite number. The recent years had not been kind to him, his face showed far more than his fifty-plus years of age. His red hair was almost completely overrun with grey, and deep wrinkles spread across his face. His green eyes were just about devoid of their old warmth, and his mustache was withered, drooping at the corners.

But even though his facial features showed a much older man, his mind was as sharp as ever. He studied the hulking mass of armor and flesh before him, trying to get a read on him based on the movements of the man.

And what he saw did not fill him with any sort of comfort. The unnamed soldier seemed almost animal in nature, cocking his helmeted head as the General studied him.

"Indeed, we are talking about the kind of nuisance that can derail a once proud operation such as yours." Locus did his best to play to the General's ego, but he doubted that would gain him any favor.

"Spare me the bullshit, lad. What's your price? What's it gonna take for you to point your gun at my enemies?"

Locus took a few minutes to explain his former partnership with Felix, and while most of the details were true, he had worked with his partner to fabricate a story about how they became enemies. He told the General that he knew Felix's goal was to acquire ancient artifacts left by the Covenant, and that his only reason for wanting these artifacts for himself was to deprive Felix of them. But the deeper reasoning for his desire to sign on with the Federal Army, was that Locus wanted to see which of them was truly the better warrior.

"So, the fate of our planet is one big competition for you?! A damn dick-wavin' contest?" McClellin exclaimed, his face beet-red, and his tone of voice akin to a man who had been in a pub for a long time.

"General, the rivalry I have with my partner is but a bonus to me. I have spent my entire life in a structured regimen. Be it my family as a child, or the UNSC as a man, I have been in a chain of command for as long as I can remember. These rebels reject the entirety of everything my life has stood for."

Locus disengaged his helmet seals, and lifted the cowl from his head. He allowed the General to see the rage in his eyes, accented by the "X" shaped scar across the center of his face that mirrored the pattern on his helmet.

"And that is something I cannot abide." Once he felt his point had been made, Locus replaced his helmet. The audible _hiss_ of the environmental seals reengaging echoed off the metal walls and ceiling of the office.

More silence on the General's end told Locus that the older man just might have been sold on his pitch. McClellin stroked his mustache for a few moments, his eyes towards the floor. Then he looked back up at the mercenary.

"And you say you'll work in exchange for alien artifacts?"

"Correct. The quantity is of little importance to me, so long as they still hold value to the collectors I intend to sell to."

"Well, then I suppose I'd be a right fool to turn you down, eh?" McClellin let out a hearty laugh as he extended a hand towards Locus. "Welcome to the Federal Army, boyo!"

After a steely handshake, the General barked out into the hallway. "Doyle! Wake up and get your arse in here, ya snivelin' bastard!" Panicked exclamations and more warbling filled the doorway, followed by the sounds of a chair falling over, followed by Doyle half-running, half-stumbling into the General's office. As he rounded the corner into the room, he overcompensated on his balance, and knocked over the Armonian ficus plant potted by the doorway, falling on top of it and shattering the ceramic vase it was housed in. Desperately flailing to regain his footing as he stood up, he offered a salute with his right hand while brushing soil off his uniform with his left.

Locus cocked his head quizzically at the frail man, knowing that Felix would have been rolling on the floor with laughter if he had been there to witness the almost spectacular display of incoordination. As for himself, he found little in life to be humorous, a product of his upbringing and military career. Despite all of this, he allowed himself the slightest of grins while his face was concealed.

"Ah, yes General! Sorry about the, um… plant. I take full responsibility for the damages, and I profusely apologize. You may take it out of my salary if you wish." He sputtered more apologies and pleas for forgiveness before McClellin silenced him.

"Calm down, Doyle. The damn ficus was a present from my ex-wife. Well, the first one, anyway. I never could stand the bloody thing. You actually did me a favor, there."

Doyle's face showed equal parts relief and confusion. "Um, well then, you are quite welcome, sir, I-"

"Shut it, lad. Take our new friend down to Central Processing, and get him a passcard for the base. He's going to be around for quite some time." He walked past Locus toward a large ancient and yellowed globe, displaying the planet Earth as it appeared centuries ago.

The globe sat on the floor, and came up until just above the General's waist. But as he studied the globe closely, Locus realized that it was an old hidden bar set. McClellin opened the globe, removing a decanter of golden whisky, and a crystal rocks glass. Pouring himself a generous portion, he placed the decanter back into the globe, and leaned back against his desk.

As McClellin motioned for the two of them to be on their way, Locus followed Doyle out the door.

"Oh, an' if you see young Dr. Grey, tell her to come and take those poor buggers out there down to Sick Bay!" The General called out, referring to the two guards still unconscious on the floor.

"Y-yes, of course General, right away!" Doyle sheepishly responded as he stepped over the two men. Locus took much less care than Doyle as he followed, switching off his helmet's external speakers. He used eye movement commands to open the secure channel used by Control.

"Control, this is Locus. Phase Two is complete."

"Excellent news," Control responded. "As we speak, I am giving the order to begin seeding the rest of your men on the planet. They will establish an outpost, and once that is complete, we will immediately commence Phase Three. Locus, Felix: prepare for war."


	4. Chapter 4

4: Battle Wu-nds

Less than two weeks had passed since joining the New Republic, and Felix was already bored to death. His scheduled "surprise" visit from Locus wasn't due for another week, though he had already been informed by General Thompson of his counterpart's involvement with the Feds. Republic intelligence was more adept at their jobs than either of the mercs could have anticipated, forcing Felix to tell his story about Locus earlier than expected.

In all that time, Kimball had kept her distance from Felix, still clearly untrusting of him, while Ellis had tried to befriend him. The merc humored him the first time, sharing in some cut-rate moonshine the bumbling yokel had made himself. It had made Felix more than a bit queasy, probably due to the unsanitary state of the bathroom sink it was being stored in. Ellis didn't seem to mind it, but Felix made a mental note to never accept food or drink from the farmboy ever again.

But Felix's real problem was still the boredom. Routine supply runs for the army broken up by the scouting missions and the occasional random firefight were not enough to keep him entertained. Seven of the past twelve days had ended with him never pulling the trigger on his rifle, and two of those days, he never left the outpost at all.

It was now dawn, and Felix had been away for almost an entire day, running his own personal reconnaissance mission. He was near a canyon half a klick away from the base, awaiting the arrival of one of his men that had recently been stationed in secret on Chorus. Locus and Felix, under orders from Control, had assembled a small support team of mercs to aid them in their private little war on the people of Chorus. Less than three dozen in number, these mercs worked in the shadows, disrupting both armies at every opportunity.

One of these soldiers was en route to bring Felix a load of supplies that he was to sell to the Republic under the guise that he stole it from the Feds. While it was true the gear was stolen from the Federal Army, he had not personally done the job.

A ping on his motion tracker drew his head upward. A lone vehicle, coming from the direction the base was located. He eased his finger off the trigger as he watched a lone Mongoose coming toward him at a slow pace. The ATV skidded to a stop, and the New Republic soldier dismounted, and approached Felix at a jog.

"Thank God you're alright, sir! I'm Private Gomez. The General sent me and some others out to find you, after you didn't check in last night."

Felix cursed at himself and the nosy General under his breath. Putting his friendly voice back on, he stood up to his full height.

"Well, I appreciate the concern, Private. But I'm fine. Just needed to clear my head. You can head back to base. Tell the General I'll be there shortly afterward."

The young man shook his head. "Sorry, sir. But I have orders to bring you back with me. General Thompson has a mission for you, he says it's urgent."

Felix produced a datapad from a side pouch, and messaged his man Miller that he needed to reschedule. There was no immediate response, which made Felix uneasy. He stared at the datapad a few seconds longer, ignoring the protests of the young soldier pleading with him to return to base. After a short pause, Felix stashed the datapad, and turned his attention back to Gomez.

"Alright. You win, Gomez. Lead the way, I'll follow." Felix motioned to his Warthog parked a short distance away, at the foot of a five-meter high plateau. As Felix neared the jeep, a mental warning bell triggered in his mind, and his instincts told him something was amiss.

Before he could even think about it, he was throwing himself backwards as he heard the familiar sound of a SPNKr rocket launcher being fired above him. The rocket struck his vehicle, sending the whole thing up in a massive ball of fire and shrapnel. Some of the rounds in the ammo belts linked to the rear chaingun began to fire off due to the intense heat, mixing with the shrapnel and sending projectiles whizzing in all directions. Felix was low enough to the ground to avoid any damage, but he heard Gomez scream in pain as at least one of the stray bullets found its way towards him, although he couldn't see the kid get hit.

Unaware of who fired the rocket, Felix remained in "New Republic" mode. He rose to his feet, calling out for the solider who was either injured or dead.

"Gomez! Sound off!" Felix shouted. He

"Here! Sir, over here!" Gomez's anguished reply came from the left of the black pillar of smoke rising from what was left of the wrecked jeep. Felix unfastened the tactical trauma kit attached to his thigh, approached Gomez, and began checking him for wounds. He found one round had hit him in the leg, and another tore through his shoulder. Opening the kit, he cracked open the small can of biofoam in the kit and injected the salve into the wound on Gomez's leg. The biofoam was loaded with a coagulant and antibiotics as well as a topical anesthetic. It wasn't a permanent fix, but it would keep him from losing any more blood. Gomez sucked in air, a pained reaction as the foam filled in the wound.

Felix had only ever been wounded gravely enough to necessitate the use of biofoam once before, during the Great War, but that experience had left its mark on him. While the anesthetic kicked in within seconds, the initial application was less than pleasant. He had felt as though swarms of burning insects had made their way into his wounds and decided to get comfy. It was a feeling he hoped never to experience again. This young man had gotten off easy, with no vital organs at stake. Felix used the remaining biofoam on the shoulder wound, and began applying bandages to the wounded leg.

"You're pretty damn lucky, kid. This was supposed to be _mine_ , for when _I_ get hit," he said, referring to the medkit he was currently using on the young man.

"Thank you, sir," Gomez clenched his teeth in pain. "I think the bullets missed everything important."

"Looks that way. Here, press this against your shoulder and hold it. I'm gonna secure the area." Felix handed him a compress, and then stood back up. His rifle had flown free of the mag-lock on his back, so he drew his sidearm, and scanned the top of the cliff wall above him. The muzzle of the pistol tracked across the rock face, and he looked for any signs of the shooter. His sweep eventually put his back to the cliff, looking out on the canyon below.

Before he could connect all the pieces of the puzzle, the impact of a man landing on one real foot and one artificial foot echoed off the rock face behind him. His face morphed into a sinister grin behind his helmet.

"Not quite your style, Wu." He slowly turned to face his assailant. The other man was of Asian descent, and slightly taller than Felix. Clad in lightweight black armor with purple highlights, his left leg was a metal prosthetic. A chunk of his left ear was missing, as was a snippet of his left eyebrow. He wore no helmet, and his jet-black hair was cut short, and not as neat as Felix remembered it being in the past. His left hand was balled into a fist, and his right hand was wrapped tightly around the grip of Felix's DMR. The SPNKr rocket launcher used to destroy the Jeep was discarded at his feet, and a sniper rifle was slung across his back. The man had a light layer of stubble across his face, and his eyes stared daggers at Felix.

"I expected something a little subtler from you," Felix said, jerking his head toward the smoldering jeep husk.

"That's it? That's all you have to say?! After all this time, after all the shit you've done, and you're going to talk to _me_ about subtlety?!" Mason Wu, Felix and Locus' old partner replied, pure acid in his words.

"Oh, of course. Where are my manners? I heard your wife passed. My condolences." Felix paced back and forth, never breaking eye contact. He moved until his back was to the rock face, and Siris was standing by the edge of the cliff.

"Spare me the pity, Gates. It won't do you any good," Wu responded, pain and anger projecting from him like a beacon. But for a moment, his expression softened. "She never liked you, you know..."

"I know, old friend."

"But if she could see what you and Sam have turned into..."

"She'd hate me?" Felix asked.

"She'd _kill_ you," Wu responded.

Felix chuckled. "She would _try._ "

Gomez was now sitting up straight, propped up against a rock to Felix's right, and he had taken off his helmet as well. He spoke up, pure confusion in his voice. "Uh, I'm confused, here. Who the hell are Gates and Sam? And who is this guy?"

Felix struck himself on the forehead with the palm of his hand. "Right, right. My manners again. Man, I am terrible at this today," he laughed nonchalantly. "Siris, Gomez. Gomez, Siris." He pointed back and forth at the other two men. "We, uh... used to work together."

"Don't call me that anymore. That name died with the real Felix and Locus. With the two bounty hunters who believed in making the galaxy a better place by making life miserable for scum. Whatever you are now Isaac, is disgusting. Plans to butcher a whole planet? You're no better than the criminals we set out to stop all those years ago!" Mason raised the rifle and aimed it at Felix, his finger hovering near the trigger.

"Wait, I'm confused again. Isn't Locus that Fed merc who you want to kill?" Gomez asked as he rose to his feet on one good leg.

Wu stared daggers at his former partner. "Is _that_ what he told you? No, Locus and Felix are working in secret to bring down this entire planet, and everyone on it. All lives but their own are expendable. I know who you're working for, Gates. And once I deal with you two, Chairman Hargrove is next."

"What?! You son of a bitch, Felix!" Gomez began limping back to his Mongoose, reaching for the hand radio mounted between the handlebars.

Felix let his head sink into his left palm, pretending to massage the temple of his helmet. "Dammit, Wu. You _really_ shouldn't have said all that." The merc turned towards Gomez, raising his pistol in his right hand, and holding up his left forearm in Mason's direction. Felix fired twice, one round striking Gomez at the base of his neck, the other hit him in the back of the head. Blood spattered the rock wall in front of Gomez, and his body crumpled in a heap.

Wu called out in anger, but as his own finger filled the trigger guard of the rifle, a blue barrier, taller than both men, sprang to life from an emitter on Felix's left wrist. Wu's shots bounced harmlessly off the shield. Felix holstered his sidearm, and gingerly bent down to pick up his helmet, making sure to keep the energy barrier between himself and Wu.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Gates?! Do other lives really mean _that_ little to you?!" Wu shouted.

"You don't think that was a tough decision to make, Wu? I just wasted my trauma kit on that kid! That fucking thing was _vintage,_ man! Dated all the way back to the fall of Reach! I had a buyer for that shit and everything. But now..." Felix sighed, "what a waste."

"That's all you care about now? Money?!" Wu lowered the rifle, seething with rage. He began to look around, trying to find any kind of way to break Felix's defense.

"I would've thought that particular memo had crossed your desk when I wanted to ransom young Gabriel for double his bounty." Felix was also planning an attack, and even though Wu outgunned him, the lightshield gave him a defensive- and sometimes offensive- advantage.

"Nice, isn't it? A little bonus from the dear Chairman. Say what you want about Project Freelancer, but they knew how to make top-notch equipment."

Siris puffed air out his nose dismissively. "Paid for in blood, I assume?"

"Is there any better way to pay for things?" Felix let an evil grin cross his lips, even though Siris was unable to see it beneath the helmet.

Wu sighed, took two steps backwards, and tossed Felix's rifle aside. He reached for the sling across his chest, and removed the sniper rifle as well. Tossing that aside, he unclipped the fastener on his pistol 's holster. After casting his final weapon away, his fists quickly balled and unballed.

"Alright, Gates. I think we both know how this is going to end: You... and me. No guns; no tricks. Only one of us walks away from here." He took a fighter's stance, his prosthetic foot digging into the dirt much harder than his natural one.

Felix let out a laugh, one that seemed more like a reaction to an old friend making a joke, rather than an enemy challenging him to mortal combat. He lowered the light shield, and slowly reached up to release the seals on his helmet. He felt the wind against his face as he took a deep breath of fresh air. The morning brought with it a cool breeze, and his eyes did not need to adjust to the sun, since there was a thick layer of cloud coverage rolling in to block it out.

Centering himself, he dropped the helmet from his left hand as his pistol was flung free from his right hand. His sly grin appeared on his lips once more.

"I know you've always wanted to find out if you could take me on, Gates. Here's your chance." Wu lowered into a slight crouch, bracing for Felix's initial attack.

"Well, then... I guess today must be my birthday." With that, Felix charged forward.

Siris shifted his weight onto his prosthesis, dodging Felix's first strike, but as Felix dove forward through the air, he managed to bring the heel of his armored boot up and into the side of his old friend's head. The two men hit the ground at the same time, but Felix was the first to regain his footing.

Siris' vision blurred as he stumbled to his feet. His ears rang, and he tasted blood. Shaking off the unease, he charged towards Felix, who was already centered and ready to counter. Felix blocked the first punch, but Siris was able to land his next two strikes. Felix retaliated with a series of quick punches. He blocked Siris' counter attack, then went in for a low, sweeping kick. Siris spun on his metal leg, shifting the rest of his body away from the kick, and making sure the prosthetic took the blunt of the attack. He could see Felix cringe in pain as his armored shin connected with the false leg. Using that to his advantage, Siris rotated back in the direction he had come from, wrapping Felix up in a wrestler's hold and bringing him to the ground. The other man struggled for a moment, before a random elbow connected with Siris' ribcage. Once his grip slackened, Felix rolled out of the hold, taking Siris' arm with him. He heard the cracking of bone, but Siris was able to move with the roll before Felix was able to completely break his arm.

Pushing off of Felix, Siris stood to his full height, clutching his left arm. He had at least a hairline fracture along his forearm, but he couldn't stop now. Moving back in to engage, Siris pressed the attack. He positioned his body in an effort to keep his wounded arm out of harm's way, he landed several quick strikes to Felix's face. As he went in for another kick, Felix grabbed the metal leg, and was shifting his weight to hurl him around one hundred-eighty degrees. Siris was prepared for this, and digging in with his natural leg, he pushed upward and corkscrewed on his artificial hip joint, his right foot connecting with Felix's head, and freeing himself from the merc's grip. Siris took several steps back to get some breathing room.

"I know all your moves, Gates. You'll have to do better than that," Siris taunted, hiding the pain he felt in his arm beneath a stern visage.

"Y'know, old friend, you're absolutely right. How about this?" Felix responded, unsheathing his knife. Twirling it around to hold it in a reverse grip, he stared down Siris, his eyes turned to steel.

"You never were one to fight fair." Siris said, flexing his left hand, shaking off more pain.

"On the money again! But, you wanna know something? I'm feeling generous today!" Felix said with a chuckle. "What say we level the field a bit?" Felix reached back with his off-hand, removing two throwing knives from his belt, and hurling them at Siris without warning. Mere luck saved him, as both knives sailed past him and into the tree behind him. Siris took the risk of turning around to remove the blades from the rotted tree, and no sooner had he gotten them free of the wood, Felix was within striking distance.

Siris managed to get one of the small daggers up and in the way of Felix's larger Bowie-style knife, but only managed to partially deflect the blow. The leading edge of the knife cut underneath the plate on Siris' left shoulder, just deep enough that he could feel it as he pushed off from Felix. Spinning around to regain his composure, he held both of the knives in a reverse grip similar to Felix.

The two men stood silent for a moment, staring each other down. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The sun disappeared behind thick black clouds, removing the thick shadows the combatants had been casting on the ground.

"I'll give you one chance to walk away, Felix. It doesn't have to end like this," Siris said between labored breaths. Felix only laughed.

"It doesn't really sound like you're in any position to make _me_ surrender. But since I seem to be in such a generous mood today, I'll offer _you_ one chance to give it up. Locus and I could always use more help. It'd be just like old times."

"It would be _nothing_ like old times. I'll never join you."

Felix shifted his gaze to the ground for a moment. "That's a shame." Without another word, he lunged forward, lightshield springing to life as he ran. Using the shield as a battering ram, he plowed into Siris, flinging him backwards into the cliff face. As Siris slumped to the ground, Felix closed the gap one more time, burying his knife deep into his old friend's chest. Siris' eyes went wide, and his mouth fell open, but no words escaped his lips. Felix never broke eye contact, driving the blade as deep as it would go into his opponent's heart.

As life slipped further and further away from Mason Wu, lightning flashed in the distance, followed by thunder. A heavy rain began to fall. Felix withdrew the knife, shaking off the blood of his dying adversary.

"Pfft. I said it once, and I'll say it again: nature is so fucking cliché." Felix turned and walked away from Siris' body. Scooping up his helmet from the ground, he recovered his rifle and sidearm on his way over to the Mongoose that Gomez had arrived on. He activated his radio, turning the frequency over to standard New Republic channels.

"-repeat: Felix, Gomez, if you're out there, please respond. Come on Carl, answer your comm." Kimball's voice crackled on the other end of the radio.

"Kimball, is that you? Finally!" Felix said, slight panic in his voice.

"Felix? Did Gomez find you? What's your status?" she responded.

"I'm sorry, Vanessa. He and I were ambushed... by Locus. My old partner. Gomez was caught in an explosion, and I was patching him up when Locus ambushed us. We tried to fight him, but Gomez didn't make it. I'm sorry," Felix lied, walking back over to Siris' body, only to discover his former friend was still barely breathing.

"I-- Understood, Felix. Um, look, I have to go, but the General wants you back here... as soon as you're able," Kimball said, her voice breaking as she fought back tears.

"Copy that. Again, I'm sorry." Felix cut off the comlink as he lifted Siris into the air by the throat. His powered armor allowed him to lift the other man with ease, and he brought the dying man over to the edge of the cliff. The life was just about drained from his eyes, and blood soaked his clothing. His face was pale, and the rainwater mixed with the blood pooling at Felix's feet.

"Sorry, old friend. Can't have any loose ends lying around." And with that, he extended his arm out to it's full length, so that Siris' body dangled out over the edge, and he loosened his grip. The near lifeless body of Mason Wu fell out of view without a sound.

Felix turned over the Mongoose's engine, ad began driving back to the Republic base. Switching his comm frequency over to the private channel he and Locus shared.

"Sam, you got a minute?" He asked.

"Don't call me that. Code names only." Locus responded almost immediately. "What do you want?"

"Sorry. Just feeling a little nostalgic. Siris just paid me a little visit."

A short pause on the other end. "Is that so?"

"Yep. But the ambush and the attempted murder gave me the impression he wasn't too happy to see me."

"Hmmm... unfortunate. Is he going to be a problem?" Locus asked.

"Not anymore. Had to kill him, and one of the rebels. Pinned the latter on you, hope you don't mind."

"Did you even _try_ to get him to join us?"

Felix jumped the Mongoose over a ridge, thumping to the ground and rattling him slightly.

"You know Wu. Clung to his morals. Even to the bitter end."

"I see," Locus replied. "Did he know?"

"About Hargrove? Yeah. I'm not sure how he figured it out. But it doesn't exactly fill me with confidence."

"Agreed. Should we inform Control the secrecy of our mission was almost compromised."

"Nah, that would cause more problems for us. Fuck it. Oh, I also think he might have taken out Zachary. He never responded when I waved off his supply drop.Send a team out to find him."

"Copy that. I have to break contact, The Feds require my services on a mission." Locus cut the transmission on his end, and Felix killed his comm. Taking one last look back at the battlefield where Siris died, he shook off his unease, and resumed his course for the rebel base.


End file.
